Sadie: That’s a very good point. John would fight tooth and nail to keep that ‘tough guy’ exterior up around Mycroft…his is not a baby, should anyone need to be reminded. But, Sherlock *does* look awfully content to sit in his older brother’s lap. And Mycroft, while still being his normal stuffy, proper self, doesn’t sound as nearly condescending as he usually does. And John is starting to feel a bit left out.
John scrubbed angrily at the tear stains on his cheeks. “I’m not a cry baby! You’re a whingey baby!” He shouted, struggling to get off Mycroft’s lap.
“Why don’t you cry about it some more you weepy willow!”
John gapped, affronted.
“Hold Jeffrey.” John said, shoving the plastic triceratops into Mycroft’s chest.
“Enough!”
Both little boys startled and stared wide eyed at Mycroft. “Until one of you can tell me what the problem is, you are both going to sit in time out. Now.”Sadie: Sherlock plopped down onto the floor, crosslegged, and folded his arms over his chest. “You can’t make me,” he grumbled.
“Sherlock…”
The little detective huffed, blowing a wave of hair off his forehead, but stayed silent.
“If that’s the way you want to go about it, fine with me. You go stand in that corner, “ Mycroft pointed to the opposite wall with his elbow. “And Jawn will go stand in the other-”
“You were here to see ME!”
Mycroft is speechless…not an easy state to catch him in. “But-”
“Me! Not him!”
John sat very still, tears building in his throat that he refused to let out. He was not a crybaby!
“Y..yo..you’re a jerk.” He stuttered, wrenching himself off of Mycroft’s lap. He turned in place once, unsure where to hide to lick his wounds, before stomping down the hallway and slamming the nursery door. Repeatedly.
Mycroft was at a loss. Sherlock had orchestrated this visit so that he and Jawn could build a relationship and now….
Mycroft carefully slid off his chair and sat next to Sherlock on the floor. The little detective’s lip trembled.Sadie: Mycroft held his arm out and waited for his brother to decide what he wanted to do…before he could blink, Sherlock slid over and tucked himself at his side. “I did come here to see you.” Mycroft closed his arm around the little detective’s frail shoulders. “And I came to see Jawn, too…that was the plan.”
“But not more than me,” Sherlock said, his voice tight from holding back tears.
“No, not more than you…but you were the one to walk away and hide from us first, lad.”
“Because you…you both…” Sherlock gave up and pressed his lips together tightly.
Sherlock hunched closer, burying his face in Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft rested his chin on top of a mop of curls. “We never say these things.” He paused. “The most important things.”
Mycroft ran a steadying hand down sherlock’s back, feeling the trembling. “There is no one on this Earth more important to me than you. And, I know for a fact, John feels the same.”
Sherlock glanced up at him with watery eyes. “He’s…better…than me. Easier.” Sherlock pulled away. “And you’re…you. What if…”Sadie: “He’s different, not better.” Mycroft refused to let Sherlock pull away from his hold. “I…haven’t been the best example of a brother.” Hard as it was for him to ever admit fault, it was true. “And John has never had one. I was attempting…” The implicit “to make up for it” was left unsaid, but it was there. He sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize how it was making you feel. I do now. Let’s go fetch Jawn and apologize to him, too.” Mycroft climbed to his feet with a series of grunts that were at best ‘undignified’, and held down his hand for his little brother.
What if he doesn’t like me anymore?” Sherlock asked, taking Mycroft’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up. “That seems terribly unlikely.” Mycroft pulled the little boy into a one armed embrace as they walked the short distance down the hallway. Mycroft nudged Sherlock forward and he tentatively knocked on the door. “Jawn.” When no response Sherlock opened the door and peeked in. John was on his side on the bed, frowning his little heart out. Sherlock snuck into the room and curled on the bed behind John. “You’re a crap sharer.” John whispered after what seemed like an eternity. “I’m the youngest in my family. And an only child with you…I’ll learn.“
Sadie: John still wouldn’t look him in the eye, but at least Sherlock didn’t feel as if he were still in danger of getting punched. “Jawn?” He sat up on his knees and inched closer. “Jawn?” He was as close as he could get without wearing John’s clothes with him. “Jawn?…Jawn? Jawn? Jawn, Jawn, Jawn, Jawn.” Sherlock was now pressing his face right against John’s, making his nose squish downward. “…Jawn,” he whispered.
John chewed his lip, but couldn’t stop himself from snorting out a giggle, and once he’d started he couldn’t stop. “You stink so much!” He said, pressing his own face against Sherlock’s. “How do you do this everytime?!”
Sherlock sighed heavily, “It’s a blessing and a curse.” Which set them both off to giggling.
Sadie: There was a low groan from the doorway. “You’re both going to put me off sweets for months…one word out of you, brother mine, and you’ll both be taking extra-long naps today.” Mycroft pushed away from the doorframe he’d been leaning against and came to sit beside his brother, pulling him into his lap. He wrinkled his nose; “Jawn’s right, you do stink…we’ll have to change you in a bit.”
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